The Lonely Chair (Poem)

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I am the lonely chair
in the center of veranda
heavy as a bull
arms wide like
elephant trunk
comfortable like
mother's lap
welcoming like
the blue sky.
I am that chair.

I am that lonely chair
waiting for someone
waiting for the one who
makes me feel like
a kings chair
taps my handle like
a tabla player
hums sitting like a farmer
waiting for rains to arrive.
I am waiting for him
I am waiting for the one.

Where is that tall man
with cotton white clothes
arms strong like a bull
chest wide as the mountain
sitting hours with me
humming, tapping
waiting for someone
just like I am waiting
for him.

The joy he gets
when he sees the child
fiddling his legs
unable to sit still.
It feels like a mountain
waiting for the clouds to meet
a beautiful sight indeed
a beautiful sight indeed! 
He does not want to let go
puts the child in my wide arm
for both him and I to enjoy.
Oh! the times we spent
the laughter, the silence and
everything in between.

Years have gone by
I have not seen him.
Many came and sat on me
stood on top me
but I do not feel a thing.
They could be living or dead
they could be rich or poor
they could be men or women
I can not feel a thing
I am alone unconnected
unloved in this lonely place
waiting and waiting for
one who knows me.

I can see the cracks in my arms
I can see the faded colors
I can hear the squeaks
time has passed by
waiting for him
relieving the memory of
what felt like yesterday.

I find myself alone
in the corner
covered in darkness.
No one is sitting on me
no one is touching me.
I have been replaced
by a white plastic chair
a chair of no character.
Oh what a pity!
What a pity!

Suddenly
I feel the tickle
I feel the same sensation
I feel the same feeling
I feel the same tapping rhythm
Is he back ...
Enjoying me again!

Its feels a different though
not the same strength
not the same tune
not the same majestic posture
but I know the sensation
I can feel it!
But alas, it is not him
but the child as a man
echoing shadows of him.

I enjoy at least few moments
of the old glory.
But it is not the same
it is not the same!
I will wait for him
in this dark corner
let the shadows befriend me
let the cobwebs hug me
let the dust comfort me
I will be vigil
I wait for him.
in this dark corner
till the end of me.

=========================================
08.02.16

Whenever I used to go my village, my grandfather was always sitting in a big heavy chair in the front porch waiting. The chair has been empty for the last 14 years and will be empty till the end.

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